


Laws of Motion

by Pale_Skin_and_Fragile_Bones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, telekinetic!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pale_Skin_and_Fragile_Bones/pseuds/Pale_Skin_and_Fragile_Bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought he was normal. He thought he had no direct hand in the world his werewolves had brought him into. He's wrong, but how will it influence his pack? Part one of a multi-part series. (Sterek in future parts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realization

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny bit me and I decided to run with its fluffy little evil. Work in progress and there will be Sterek in future chapters. Rating may change as things progress. Really this is a humble test to see if it is liked. If so I'll continue. ^^;

Quiet.

Everything is so painfully quiet.

The first sound to break the silence is a scream. Stiles' eyes snap to the source of the scream, blinking owlishly at the girl as she scrambles away from him. The way she's staring-

“Go away!” It's only now that the teen realizes she's been verbally assaulting him even as she shrinks back in terror. “Get away from me, you freak!”

Freak? Well that's a little harsh! Especially considering she's an alpha werewolf. An alpha werewolf who brought not one, but two other packs with her to challenge Scott and Derek for territory. Yeah, when Derek returned to Beacon Hills he brought back some of his little wolf buddies with him. That's how they ended up here, in the middle of the freaking forest, at 1 am with twelve werewolves ganging up on Scott, Derek, Peter, and Isaac. Twelve werewolves who, if not unconscious or bleeding rather profusely, are staring at Stiles like he's some kind of monster. 

What is wrong with these people?!

Before the brunet can voice his frustration Scott speaks his name. Slowly dark amber eyes shift from the chaos before them to the other boy. “You...you okay?” 

There's a hesitance in his best friend's voice Stiles has never heard before. At least, not towards him. Peter meanwhile is gazing at Stiles like he's seeing him for the first time, and is utterly fascinated. “Remarkable. I... I don't think he realizes what he has done, Scott.”

“Wh-what I've done?!” Stiles sputters and turns towards Derek's crazy uncle. “What did I do?!”

Peter gives a soft hum, a pleased little sound as he gestures around them in a wide sweep. “This Stiles, all of this. You protected the pack.”

Stiles hadn't really looked around since coming back to his senses, so he does so hesitantly. Peter is beaming at him in something very close to pride, Scott is clearly worried, Isaac looks like he's just seen a god, and Derek... The beta's expression is hard to read. He isn't angry, afraid, or disgusted at least. 

Their enemies though-

The alpha girl looks ready to throw up as she repeats the word 'freak.' A few of the conscious werewolves are speaking frantically amongst themselves. They obviously regret their decision to go through with the territorial challenge. Not a single one of them is without an injury. They'll heal fast, but Stiles has to wonder about the beta with a thick branch through his right shoulder. 

The weirdest thing of all though is the area they're all standing in. It looks like a bomb went off; undergrowth flattened outwards from Stiles and trees splintered. Some of the trees are tilted oddly. “No...”

The teen shakes his head, unable- no, unwilling to accept that he of all people did this. He couldn't have done this! In another circumstance, with a lot less damage and injury inflicted, Stiles knows he would be ecstatic. “I didn't- I'm not-” 

“You did and you are.” Peter's voice is unyielding, patience already wearing thin. “The sooner you accept it the sooner we can use it to our advantage.”

'Our advantage'? A flutter of panic moves through the brunet's chest briefly. Yeah, whose benefit would it be for exactly? Stiles doesn't realize he's actually spoken the thought aloud until he catches the older Hale's look. An uncomfortable silence fills the air that is mercifully broken by Isaac as he clears his throat. “Could we maybe- Stiles?”

Scott's best friend isn't one to back down, to run away, but he just needs some space. He needs a chance to try and figure out what's going on. Not to mention his head feels as though it will split in half at any moment. The injured werewolves are starting to bounce back, but no one makes any move to attack or even speak.

“Why are you running away, freak?!” Well, almost no one. The rival alpha screams after Stiles and permits herself to be held back by two betas. “You tried to kill us! Now you think you can just walk away from us? Who else have you murdered?!”

Stiles pauses mid step as the acidic questions and accusations seep in. Swallowing the hard lump forming in his throat the boy fishes the keys to his jeep out of a pocket and quickens his pace to leave. Stiles presses the keys hard into his hand, the pain a distraction from the voices of Scott, Isaac, and Derek calling after him. He can apologize later, explain later. But right now...

A sort of numbness takes over. Stiles doesn't remember driving home, doesn't remember entering his house and locking up. The darkness and silence lets him know his father is out late and will likely not be back for at least another couple of hours. Sighing heavily Stiles runs a hand through his hair, a self depreciating smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This is his own damn fault, isn't it? He wanted so badly to-

An odd clatter snaps the teen's attention from his brooding to the kitchen counter. Mindlessly he had retrieved a glass of water and was about to take a tentative sip from it before he got lost in thought. Now though the glass is shaking violently. Just as suddenly as the movement begins the glass launches itself across the room, slamming into the closest wall and shattering loudly. Stiles lets out a strangled yelp, flailing backwards just in time before cabinets rattle and fly open. Everything that can move about the room easily does so. Dishes crash and the remaining glasses burst. Loose papers, bits of this and that, fly around the room. “Stop-”

The more frustrated and upset Stiles becomes, the more the chaos in the area kicks up. “Stop stop stop stop stop-”

Backing himself up against a wall the sheriff's son slides to the floor, curling into himself and shutting his eyes tightly. Another crash not far from his head is rewarded with a flinch and a firm press of his hands to his ears.

“STOP IT!”


	2. Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles thought he was normal. He thought he had no direct hand in the world his werewolves had brought him into. He's wrong, but how will it influence his pack? Part two of a multi-part series. (Sterek in future parts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone for all the positive responses to this work. I'm going to continue onward, and I hope you'll stay with me! <3

“Stiles?”

A shudder moves through the broken items all around the brunet in question. Head snapping up Stiles catches the apprehensive gaze of his best friend from the kitchen doorway. Briefly he feared it was his Dad that had spoke, and the momentary flux in the destruction all around the room reflects the emotional spike. 

“Stay back...” The shrill, terrified voice of the rival alpha still rings in Stiles' mind. He's a freak, an abnormality in the abnormal. “I don't want to hurt you guys.”

“You're not going to hurt us.” The confidence in Scott's tone belies his expression. “You just need to calm down, okay? We'll figure this out.”

“I am calm.” Stiles grits his teeth, breath coming in short bursts. He knows better. No matter what angle its approached from the teen knows he's not handling this well. At all. Maybe he could just pretend this is a normal panic attack; use all those breathing techniques and 'coping mechanisms' he was taught after his Mom died. Oh god...

What would she think of this?

Several jagged pieces of dishes draw up as if on strings. Stiles stares in complete shock as they remain suspended where they are, floating almost harmlessly in place. Well, as harmless as anything that can cause deep lacerations can be. Scott and Derek haven't been sitting idly to the side as Stiles struggles with his new...gift. The two werewolves communicate mostly non-verbally, but every once in awhile, in what Stiles can safely assume is a debate, they murmur to each other in aggitatedly. Finally Scott takes a hesitant step forward. 

“Hey Stiles,” it isn't fear of his friend the true alpha has, but fear for. Even so, all Stiles can register is that it is fear. Hesitation to come to him. Not that he blames Scott in the least.

“Scott don't!” A shiver moves through the suspended projectiles. “Just...just stay back, okay?”

Clenching his jaw tightly Scott steps back. Normally he would just charge forward. He trusts Stiles with his life, so there is no reason he can't, or shouldn't, go to him. The only tenuous thread holding Scott back is the hope staying back will help calm Stiles down. It's looking like all help will have to come from the kitchen doorway. 

“We need to get to him.” Derek's voice is the softest Scott has ever heard it in relation to Stiles, but brooks no argument. “He's bleeding pretty badly. Not to mention he's working himself up.”

“He's going to hurt himself worse.” Scott's tongue feels oddly heavy as he vocalizes what he and Derek are both thinking. “But how are we going to- Derek?!”

As a confident step is taken over the threshold Scott realizes his and Derek's ideas on how to help Stiles have diverged. “Derek, wait! What are you-”

“Stiles...” Derek's voice is soothing, hypnotic eyes focused only on his goal. The telekinetic's attention is drawn back to his friends. Drawn to Scott's confusion and the way Derek ignores everything said to him. “I'm here, I'm not scared. I'm not afraid of you.”

“I'll hurt you-” Stiles' response is strained from the panic attack overriding his system. He's barely breathing now, and the trembling moving throughout his body is reflected in the movement coming from the shattered remnants all around them. “I'll hurt you- please- I don't-”

“Stiles-”

“No!” A piece of what was once the Sheriff's favorite mug launches towards the werewolf's face. Derek doesn't so much as flinch as the wickedly sharp ceramic bites into his cheek. Of course he feels the sting of pain, the tacky warmth of blood; but calming Stiles is far more important. A gentle, ghost of a smile crosses Derek's lips. He's close, almost to the halfway point of reaching his goal. “It's all right. I heal fast. Kind of a perk of being a werewolf and all, remember?”

Stiles inhales sharply, drawing himself up from the slouch he's in and pressing his back more firmly against the wall. Anything that was left on the floor, including some of the more heavy furniture, rises to join the rest of the chaos as he does so. For a split second Derek's heart skips a beat. He has to be quick, but cautious, in his next actions. Slipping his leather jacket off of his shoulders Derek picks up his pace. He isn't quite running, and once close enough he drops to his knees and slides up to Stiles. Wedging his hand between the brunet's upper back and the wall Derek pries Stiles from the surface. In just as fluid a motion the jacket is wrapped around the teen's shoulders and he is pulled into a protective embrace. Any protest Stiles has is muffled into Derek's chest. At the same moment dexterous fingers tangle into the fabric of Derek's shirt all hell breaks loose. The last conscious sensation Stiles has before passing out is of Derek holding him close; soothing nonsense being whispered as glass and ceramic crashes around them deafeningly loud. There is a soft grunt of pain from Stiles' shield.

Then the world goes mercifully black.


End file.
